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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Rhymis

Madness is a place of solitude.




A crater filled battlefield in the midst of May. The sun is setting and the smoke is clearing. Two men sitting next to each other on the edge of a trench sipping whiskey from tin cups.




It’s been so long that silence is now the enemy,

Remnants of chaos litter the field,

Could anything grow from all of this I ask?


Down the muddy lane there is a small town,

Crumbling walls and destroyed streets,

Nobody lives there anymore,

Dead memories that even time will forget.


Stench of the dead rise like a mist,

The silence brings the echo of their voices,

Cries and moans that cease in darkness,

Fallen brothers from a land they’ll never see again.


I sit next to my enemy,

We sip whiskey in silence,

We are the last two standing,

Upon the dusk of a maddening existence.


I don’t know his language,

He doesn’t know mine,

Yet together we sit,

Making history.


Pointing across the field he utters a word,

Then stands and walks towards,

I follow out of interest,

Revolver now in hand.


Hunched over and smiling he sees a flower,

Looks back at me says a word,

I shoot him in the head,

He falls upon the field of death.


I pluck the flower from the soil,

And place it on his chest,

Madness is a place of solitude,

And there was no room for him.


So across the field I walked,

Into the darkening of this day,

I was the last one standing,

In the war to end all wars.

Submitted: October 28, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Michael Plante. All rights reserved.

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Steven P. Pody

Powerful commentary in a scenario that humanity is probably stupid enough to let come to pass. Interesting read. Thanks kindly! Poetic regards, SPP

Thu, October 28th, 2021 1:42pm

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